Fragile Minds
by Chi606
Summary: Starlight Express fic. CB/Caboose is always there for Dinah. This can be a very dangerous thing.
1. Default Chapter

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Warmth, softness. Shes in my arms. Suddenly she's so there, so incredibly,   
painfully present. Her cool blue metal frame, bouncy and resilient,   
pressing against mine. She's smiling, letting me bask in her unbearable   
sweetness. Her deep brown eyes see only me, her hair, smooth thick   
tendrils of rusted copper brushes against my cheek like the wings of a   
butterfly. Her tiny, delicate wheels spin about excitedly as I lift her   
up, and she kisses me. The sweet smell of bread baking inside of her.   
And... And...   
  
Where in Starlight did that come from? I blink. A moment of blankness,   
sweet sensory deprivation, and the visions fade. I'm back, off the track   
in more ways than one, crouched behind the cool leaves of a fluorescent   
bush. Watching. Just watching. It's not a crime. It's not breaking any of   
the rules they've set for me. Nobodies getting hurt. There's no clanging   
of metal, no crash, no fire. Nothing is lost. My eyes don't dent her   
checkered blue frame. I'm just watching. it's really very boring.   
  
I'm allowed to watch Dinah. Starlight knows she watches me. Everyone does   
now. They're all expecting something, and they're right to. I can't stand   
being so good. I'm back into wide smile mode, but everyone sees through   
it. Chaos just doesn't work when everyone's expecting it. They wont let me   
so much as hitch myself behind an engine, or be on my own for more than a   
few hours. They keep me away from sharp pointy objects, big dull   
bludgeons, flammable things... But they don't keep me away from Dinah.   
She's not dangerous, and besides, she doesn't even know I'm here.   
  
She's standing still, waiting for her engine. She sparkles, shines in the   
bright sunlight. She's smiling, stupid, oblivious. There's only one thing   
on her mind, and I know it. That steamer... diesel... whatever the heck   
he's supposed to be. Her engine, her Greaseball, her obsession. The little   
idiot's world revolves around him. She worships him. She lives for him.   
He's not so perfect. I've seen him yelling at her, berating her. "Shut it   
Dinah". I hate it when he says that. I hate it when he gets angry at her.   
He has no right. She doesn't see what I see though. She sees her perfect,   
beautiful, engine of love. Starlight I wish I were him.   
  
"Greaseball!" She suddenly shrieks, as he comes down the tracks to   
retrieve her. She throws her arms around him, kisses him. She's as much a   
groupie as she is a girlfriend. She's doing it on purpose. She is! She   
must know I watch her... she should know. I should tell her. Maybe I'll   
tell her. Give her a good scare, that would. She'd know the red caboose   
was watching her, stalking her, lurking in the shadows under her bed.   
She'd understand everything, and go running towards Greaseball. Maybe I   
should tell her, and just watch her run.   
  
She has every right to fear me. I'm the villain. I scheme, I destroy. I   
sit with her while she cries. I wipe away her tears, and tell her   
everything is going to be alright. I stay with her until she smiles, and   
I'm sure she's going to be okay. I nearly destroy the engine that makes   
her cry, take him out of her life forever. I protect her. She should be   
afraid of me.   
  
She hitches up to him with a ditzy giggle, and skates off with him,   
smiling as though life is perfect. Maybe she thinks life is perfect, but   
it isn't. She's perfect. She's the only thing that is. Greaseball doesn't   
deserve her. He has no right to her. He has no originality. Oh yes, he's   
the tough guy, he can make the little engine that could quake in fear. He   
can't do half the things I can though. He can't mangle, and destroy, and   
deceive. The world doesn't turn to dust as he roller-skates by, with his   
beautiful, graceful coach behind him.   
  
I could... I could do so many things. There are so many things I could do.   
To him, to her, to them. And I could do it to. If I wanted to I could.   
  
I could end it for them. She'll never leave him, not ever. He'd leave her   
though. He's left her before. I could smash her. I could cause the crash   
of the century. I could ride my shimmering blue angel strait into the   
trash heap in a matter of moments. Greaseball wouldn't want her that way.   
Her confidence would die. She wouldn't be the same girl. But that's okay.   
I could take care of her. I would never leave her. There's always me for   
Dinah.  
  
  
Part Two  
  
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	2. FRagile minds, part 2

fragile2.pageI'm watching Dinah again. Watching, always just watching.   
Dreaming. Most wouldn't think that I have dreams. Dreams are for little   
goody two-shoes wimps like Rusty. I can't help the dreams though, and once   
and a while I do have them. I can't help wanting her.   
  
There's something wrong today. I can tell. I can always tell when she's   
upset. I know her better than she knows herself. Nobody knows Dinah the   
way I do. It's not to hard to know everything Dinah. All you have to do is   
watch her night and day, but I guess nobody else has bothered.   
  
I'm not sure, but I think she's crying. Even from a distance, a can see a   
few crystalline droplets make shimmering paths down her beautiful face.   
Even if she isn't crying, she is. I want her to be crying. I want her to   
be sobbing, hysterical.   
  
I close my eyes for a moment. Just a moment, one of those brief, seemingly   
endless seconds. I can see so clearly. I can see Greaseball, that jerk,   
pushing her down to the floor, hitting her. Hitting her until her sweet   
little face is black and blue and dented. Until she's begging him to stop,   
and crying like she is now. I find myself laughing softly, very softly. So   
softly Dinah wouldn't be able to hear, even if she ever noticed my   
existence.   
  
I open my eyes. She didn't hear, she's not looking at me. She never looks   
at me. Even when I'm trying to talk to her, she always looks away. Her   
face is restored, not a single dent. I've never seen her dented or hurt,   
but maybe I'm not close enough. She's even smiling now, as if expecting to   
receive some wonderful gift, instead of some worthless ride from her   
engine. I want her to notice me. She's upset. I want to make her feel   
better.   
  
I laugh again, louder this time. Much louder and much higher, a terrible   
sound. Sometimes I can't believe I can make sounds like that. This time   
she notices. She definitely notices. She jumps. She's scared, I can tell.   
She knows somebody's watching her, and worst of all, she knows that   
somebody's me. I go silent, watching appreciatively as she glances   
frantically around her, as though mentally debating whether to bolt, or to   
wait for her engine. I don't give her a chance to decide though. I want   
her to notice me.   
  
"Dinah" I say her name softly, as though it were sacred. Maybe it is.   
She's looks towards the bush where I am crouched. The leaves no longer   
conceal me. I'm not just watching anymore. She moves nearer, to get a   
closer look. She's so close. I can see her every detail; the three black   
stripes on her white knee pieces, the ice blue sheen of her legs, the   
small shinny adornments that line the edge of her skirt. I can make out   
the threads on the laces of her skates, the soft roughness of her tan   
wheels. I can smell that wonderful fresh food smell. It's amazing. She's   
amazing. She's much to close.   
  
I jump up, suddenly face to face with her, suddenly able to feel her   
breath against my face, to look into her eyes. She jumps backwards   
quickly, like a frightened rabbit, nearly tripping over her own wheels.   
She regains herself quickly though, like I knew she would. She's wonderful   
that way. She smiles at me, but it's a tiny smile, a nervous smile, a   
disdainful smile. She wants to get away. She thinks she can get away.   
  
"Oh... um.. hi CB." She says quickly, "I didn't see you there." She   
smooths down her skirt quickly, running her hands over it several times   
before continuing, "I have to go now. I'm supposed to be meeting   
Greaseball you know" She gives me one more hesitant glance before turning   
down the tracks, skating away. I follow.   
  
"Dinah, look at me." I just want her to look at me, to watch me for once.   
She moves a little faster, teasing me, taunting me. Stupid, manipulative,   
little b****, teasing the freight trains as usual. I follow her. She moves   
faster and faster, until she's running. If she were hitched to an engine,   
even a slow one, I wouldn't stand a chance, but as things are I'm gaining   
on her. And I'm enjoying the chase! The feeling of exhilaration, the   
knowledge that I'm going to win. Unlike some people, I don't need the   
Starlight to help me win.   
  
I'm behind her. I grab onto her couplers harshly, pulling her towards me,   
making her look. She gasps in pain and fear, looking at me frantically for   
a moment before starting to struggle violently. I pull her closer against   
me. She's so soft, so fragile. She's scared, poor thing. I never wanted to   
scare her.   
  
Still holding tightly to her couplers with one hand, I reach out with the   
to gently stroke her cheek, to comfort her.   
  
"It's okay Dinah, it's alright." I soothe, my own voice trembling   
uncontrollably. She's so close. "I'm here, I wont let anything happen to   
you. I'll keep you safe, I promise" My words come out quickly, on there   
own volition, at first merely trickling from my lips, and then raging like   
a flooded river. She's quiet for a moment, still, her brown eyes wide and   
exquisite "That's right, you're safe now." There is a swift and abrupt   
rush of pain up through my finger as she bites it, hard. She renews her   
struggle, as I feel red hot rage, redder than my own frame rushing through   
me. I take her couplers with both hands moving, moving her foreword. She   
tries to escape, but I wont let her. I wont let her, not ever. We're not   
moving fast at all. Some things work better with an engine than a coach.   
We don't have to go fast, we're moving, and I'm in control.  
  
  
  
Part 3  
  
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	3. fragile minds part three

fragile3.pageI'm in control, completely and totally in control. I'm   
enjoying it. I'm enjoying this control more than I've enjoyed anything in   
my whole life. It's a rush, and adventure, a hellish and eternal power   
trip. It doesn't matter who I'm hitched behind anymore, or how hard she's   
fighting me, or how loud she's screaming. I don't care if I'm scaring her.   
Let her be scared. I don't care if I kill her, break her into a thousand   
shards of shattered metal. I don't care if I love her. None of that   
matters. I'm in control.   
  
I only ride her for a few minutes. That's all it takes. There's no one   
around, only us. Only Dinah interrupts the complete silence, alternating   
between violent struggle and infantile pleas. I hardly hear her, hardly   
see her. I'm waiting, waiting for the perfect moment to derail, to end the   
ride for both of us. It's something that has to be done just right, or not   
at all. I've turned it into an art, an art that only I understand.   
  
The moment comes, a perfect moment like so many others I've experienced.   
The moments is a paradox, perfectly embodying my heaven, even while it   
lays incased in her hell. We're going fast now, terribly fast, or maybe it   
just feels like we are. Speed is a relative force. The terror in her eyes   
is the most beautiful site I've ever seen. I wish she could take in from   
with in her, and serve on a dish for me to eat so I could feel it grow   
inside of me. A jolt moves though us both as her wheels slip of the tracks   
slowly, agonizingly slowly. They move of inch by inch, trembling, fighting   
to stay attached, as they are ground into the gravel besides the tracks. I   
can't think anymore. I am a being made up of pure exhilaration. The world   
is blue and white, mixed with a thousand other bright colors, burning and   
shining like a million suns.   
  
Then I unhitch, and everything is quiet, and I'm laughing. I don't stop   
laughing for the longest time, not until I begin to feel like if I keep   
laughing I'll explode. Boom! No more CB. I notice Dinah. She's quiet,   
lying on the ground by the tracks. Her eyes are closed, and she doesn't   
move. She's so still, battered. It looks wrong. She shouldn't be lying   
still like that. She should be awake, watching for her engine, filling my   
world with her presence. I don't like her this way.   
  
"Dinah.. wake up." I whisper her name as I kneel down next to her. She   
doesn't respond, even when I repeat her name much louder. Of course she   
wont deign to speak to me. She's to obsessed with her engine. She still   
doesn't see me. She refuses to see me, even when I'm right next to her.   
She hates me. I shake her, trying to get her attention. I'm gentle at   
first, but she still ignores me. I shake her harder and harder, until I   
half way expect her to break in half if I don't stop.   
I get up with a sigh, giving up, walking away. She still doesn't look   
right, lying as if asleep next to the tracks, alone. I don't want to leave   
her there, so I don't. I pick her up, managing to sling her over my   
shoulders clumsily. It's strange just how heavy she is, compared to how   
small and light she looks. I want to collapse under her weight, to let her   
fall to the ground with a clang and a thud. I can't do that to Dinah   
though. I have to take care of her.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
  
It's dark in the shed. I thought that it would be the best place to bring   
Dinah. I don't want to be seen with her like this. They'd think I'd done   
something to her, that I was keeping her with me against her will. Nobody   
would understand.   
  
She looks awful. I can't stand it. I can't stand seeing her limp, and   
covered in dents. It's not so bad. It's nothing that can't be fixed.   
Still, it's terrible to see her this way. It's terrible knowing I hurt   
her. But maybe I didn't. No, I can't believe that I hurt her. I would   
never, ever, hurt Dinah, not ever. It must have been Greaseball that did   
this to her. I would never hurt Dinah, but Greaseball would. I hate   
Greaseball.   
  
She moves. She finally moves, returning color to my life like the spring   
after a seemingly endless winter. I lean in closer to her, quickly taking   
her head in my lap. I love the feeling of her lying against me, and   
knowing I'm truly there for her when she needs me most. She lets out a   
tiny, pained whimper before even opening her eyes.   
  
"Shhh, you were in an accident." I run a hand through her soft hair. It   
feels so good. I'm so glad she's here, not trying to escape like before.   
She finally opens her eyes, a confused look crossing her face, as she   
tries to remember what happened and why she was here. I merely smile down   
at her, enjoying having her in my possession. I like having a coach all to   
myself. "Greaseball did this, but know there's me..."   
  
"No!" She says suddenly, in a voice that seems way to loud for her current   
condition. She tries to sit up, to pull away, to escape. I don't want her   
to go. I wont let her. "CB, let me go... now!" She struggles for a few   
moments before she gives up completely. She curls into herself, closing   
her eyes as if trying to block out the world.   
  
"Look at me." I say... more order. She shakes her head, and her eyes stay   
closed. I shake her harshly, until she opens her eyes again, carefully   
looking right at me. That's much better. I smile down at her, and continue   
to stroke her hair. Every once and a while, a few tears escape her eyes. I   
wipe them away, and kiss her forehead. She grimaces and tries to move away   
when I do this, but I know it's just because she's nervous.   
  
Time passes, lots of time I think, though maybe not. Dinah seems restless,   
scared, despite my promises that Greaseball wont be able to find us here.   
It would be perfect, if only Dinah weren't so upset, if only it wasn't   
nearly painful to look at her, if only it didn't have to end eventually.   
Suddenly the door bursts open. I jump up suddenly, accidentally letting   
Dinah fall to the floor in my abruptness. I stand defensively over her, as   
she manages to sit up. It's Rusty. Only Rusty. I can handle him. He's easy   
to deal with.   
  
"Greaseball hurt her and I..." I start to explain in a rushed voice, as   
out of know where, Greaseball appears behind him. Greaseball and Rusty in   
the same room, and not trying to kill each other... I've never seen   
anything like it. Rusty gestures almost nervously towards Dinah, then to   
me. Greaseball's eyes rest on me the longest, orbs of pure rage. Before I   
can say anything, or think, he has me pinned up against the wall. He's   
yelling at me, but its very hard to pay much attention to what he's   
saying, as I can't breath. Out of the corner of my eye, as if in slow   
motion, I can see Rusty helping Dinah to her feet. She's unsteady at best,   
but he wont let her fall. He mouths something to Greaseball, and suddenly   
the engine lets go of me, and is advancing on Rusty. He's angry, just   
looking for someone to attack. I know the feeling.   
  
"Greaseball... don't..." Dinah says in an impossibly sweet voice. He   
listens, to Rusty's visible relief. I would listen to, if she ever used   
that tone of voice with me. He takes Dinah in his arms, and she seems to   
almost melt into his embrace. I want to kill him.   
  
"Hey... um... we should probably get going now..." Rusty interrupts. His   
voice is nervous, but his head is held high. He starts to duck away when   
Greaseball looks at him, and then stops himself. Greaseball looks to   
Dinah, who nods frantically, with a quick glance in my direction, the   
traitor. "Maybe if you pushed her instead of hitching her up from   
behind... it might be easier." Rusty suggests.   
  
"Yeah.." Greaseball agrees, taking hold of Dinah's rings. He's so   
gentle... more than I thought he could ever be. And then there skating   
away, all three of them, leaving me. I turn to follow, but it's to late.   
The door to the shed slams in my face, and it's locked.  
  
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